A Royal Match

by Connell O'Tyne

  My eyes were burning with desperation to see whom and what she was txt-ing. ‘How many times have you tampered with my mobile, exactly, Honey?’ I demanded, turning my attention back to Honey before I shamed myself by craning over to peer at Portia’s screen.

  ‘Oh, Calypso, talk about self-centred!’ she snapped, flipping her head back up. ‘Why does it always have to be about you, you, you? You can’t always take centre stage like this. Don’t you think it’s poor Georgina and Star we should be worrying about, darling?’ she implored, her lower lip dropping as if she truly cared.

  ‘You’re incredible, Honey,’ Indie said as she flopped on Honey’s bed.

  Honey fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Thank you, darling. I’m sorry I can’t return the compliment.’

  Indie leant back on Honey’s bed, making herself comfortable by rearranging her pillows. ‘All Star did was give you a bit of a slap and after the way you’ve been behaving, I can’t believe she was so restrained,’ Indie told her. ‘If I were Calypso I’d give you another slap for deleting Billy’s txts.’

  ‘Calypso doesn’t seem to mind, so why do you?’ asked Honey as she grabbed at her pillows. ‘Now get your filthy feet off my bed and go back to your own room.’

  ‘I do care, as a matter of fact, Honey,’ I corrected her as Indie left the room.

  ‘Oh, then it must be me who doesn’t care,’ she replied with the ease of a someone completely comfortable with her role.

  I was so angry I stormed out of the room. When I passed Clemmie and Arabella’s room they called me in. Of course I told them all about what Honey had done.

  ‘What a bitch,’ Arabella agreed.

  ‘She’s done it before,’ Clemmie added casually.

  ‘All par for the Honey course,’ they both sighed.

  ‘I know she’s done it before now. I don’t know if Freddie or Billy have tried to contact me before and, well, I’ve been so confused about how I feel because I haven’t been getting many txts at all.’

  Seeing how upset I was, they both gave me a cuddle. Their other roommate, Rosie, had been in the en suite having a shower, but as she came out she remarked, ‘I thought you and Billy were an item?’

  I briefly looked up at Rosie, who was still in her robe. She smiled and went back into the bathroom. I turned to my friends. ‘I think I only started liking Billy because of all the complications with Freddie, mostly because Freddie wasn’t txt-ing me. Well, actually neither was Billy, but he was doing his A levels, so that was understandable. The real issue was that Freddie was going to the ball with Portia. Wait a minute. Why did Rosie think Billy and I were an item?’

  The girls looked at one another. ‘Honey told us, I think,’ Arabella said, looking to Clemmie for confirmation. Clemmie nodded.

  Now I was really confused.

  ‘When you say Freddie is going to the ball with Portia, do you actually mean going with as in going with?’ asked Arabella.

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. That’s the thing. Honey’s got me confused.’

  Clemmie put her arm around me. ‘So, it’s Freddie you really like?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Seriously, serious?’

  I nodded again, because as easy as it would be to like Billy, after seeing Freddie at fencing I knew that I felt something much stronger for him. He might be inconvenient, but he was the one I wanted to pull.

  ‘Okay, well, you’re not going to like this, then,’ Arabella warned me, shaking her head, ‘but Honey told us that Freddie and Portia were an item.’

  I looked from Clemmie to Arabella. ‘What did she say, exactly?’

  ‘Just how mad for one another they were,’ Arabella replied vaguely.

  ‘Yes, but it is Honey we’re talking about, and as she’s our only source I wouldn’t put much stock by it,’ Clemmie added.

  I nodded. ‘I know, but … well, Portia hasn’t helped.’

  ‘Portia wouldn’t be a bitch,’ Arabella said firmly. ‘I’ve known her all my life and one thing she isn’t is a backstabber.’

  ‘Oh, it’s such a mess,’ I groaned, putting my head in my hands with the frustration of it all.

  ‘Honey is a witch,’ Clemmie said, ‘but Portia stealing Freddie, I don’t buy. Have you spoken to Portia about all this?’

  The tears sprang to my eyes at the obvious sense in this remark, and Clemmie and Arabella took me in their arms for a cuddle. It felt good to finally share my plight with others, and all my doubts and suspicions about Portia came tumbling out, as well as how horrible I’d been towards her, and how I couldn’t go to the ball because I had nowhere to stay in London, and how even if Portia hadn’t been trying to steal Freddie I wouldn’t blame her now if she did.

  Clemmie and Arabella were really comforting. Arabella offered me some sweets, and Clemmie said she wouldn’t even mind if I ate a Jelly Baby, as Sebastian was growing up now and hardly resembled their little faces at all.

  I smiled through my tears. ‘Indie and I were thinking of having a moonwalk tonight, if you want to come,’ I told them, drying my eyes.

  ‘Hoorah, a moonwalk!’ they squealed, bouncing on the bed with excitement. ‘We haven’t had one since last term.’

  ‘I know, it’s been so cold, but the stars are bright and the moon’s full and I know I won’t get to sleep tonight anyway. I’m too worried about Star and Georgina.’

  They were already gathering sweets, fags, Body Shop Specials and duvets as I left their room. On the way back to the Saint Ursula room I was determined to try and sort things out with Portia once and for all. Talking things over with Clemmie and Arabella had given me the confidence that I could.

  TWENTY-EIGHT:

  The Girl in the Iron Beak

  I arrived back at my room, intending to invite Portia to the moonwalk. I had a picture in my head that once under the stars, stuffing ourselves with sweets and vodka, I’d have the bottle to apologise for being so horrible and put things back on track. But things had changed in the room in my absence.

  Portia was reading Nun of Your Business – last year’s copy – but I didn’t have a chance to speak to her about moon-walking or making up because Honey dived on me like I was her best friend in the world.

  ‘Darling!’ she said as she threw herself on me enthusiastically. ‘I am soooo seriously sorry about deleting the messages from Billy. Please forgive me,’ she begged, seemingly genuinely contrite. ‘I’m almost certain I remember what they all said.’

  What could I do? Apart from hug her back? ‘Of course I forgive you,’ I told her, not just because I was surprised and curious – although I was – but because I was totally weirded out by what she was wearing on her nose. I guess there is no nice way of putting this. Honey was wearing a big, black metal sharp-pointed beak.

  ‘What have you put on your …’

  ‘Oh, this?’ she asked, nonchalantly tapping the monstrosity perched on her face. ‘Sister thought it was best. It’s a nose guard.’

  ‘Sister Regina?’ I asked, shocked that the adorable, lovely little Florence Nightingale of the infirmary would stoop to such artifice.

  ‘Sister Dumpster,’ Portia said from behind Nun of Your Business.

  This is my chance, I told myself as I approached her bed. How hard is it to say sorry? It’s only one word. I only got as far as her bedside table, where the photograph of her family stared out at me.

  ‘So Portia, do you fancy going for a moonwalk this evening?’ I asked lightly.

  ‘Her name is Dempster, actually,’ Honey snapped at Portia – that is, she was trying to snap, but her words echoed inside the iron beak.

  Portia didn’t reply to my suggestion; in fact she didn’t even look at me. I looked at her mother staring out from the family photograph, then looked at Honey, the ultra aristo-psycho toff. She looked like a monster, a victim of torture. The Girl in the Iron Beak. It was completely bizarre.

  ‘Daddy said I should sue,’ she sighed. The metal nose made her sigh sound really nasal and common.

&nb
sp; But I didn’t laugh.

  Portia huddled further towards the wall. I think she might have been laughing.

  ‘Poor you,’ I remarked, more or less for the sake of it because even though I was furious with her for deleting my messages, and for the trouble she’d brought on Star, she was Honey. ‘So Honey, what were those txt messages from Billy that you deleted?’

  ‘I told you, just heavy breathing, a little smutty for your wholesome little American taste.’

  ‘Heavy breathing? Smut?’

  ‘Darling, you really don’t want to know.’

  ‘Oh, but I do,’ I told her firmly.

  Then Portia’s voice added, ‘So do I.’

  ‘Oh, darling, what’s that top you’re wearing?’ Honey suddenly squealed, which made me jump six feet in the air as the words echoed about her nose. ‘It’s divine!’

  I looked down at the stretched-out-of-shape white-ish t-shirt I was wearing. ‘Erm, Top Shop; I think it was in the five-pound bin.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you just adore Top Shop?’ she enthused. ‘It’s so tacky and yet so happening. Wrong, but deliciously right and darling on your figure. You make it look like something Lee whipped up.’

  ‘Lee?’

  ‘Alexander McQueen, darling; everyone who knows him calls him Lee.’

  Portia loudly flicked the switch on her mobile charger. Honey rolled her eyes dramatically in Portia’s direction, and the look, combined with the iron beak, was really quite alarming. I found myself feeling sorry for poor Bob and Sarah, forgoing the pool and the other luxury treats they sacrificed so that I could live in a room with something the carnival had kicked out.

  ‘Sorry, what was that you said, Honey, I missed it?’

  ‘I was saying, Mummy, Poppy and I sat in the front row at his last show in Paris and he totally adored us. Well, me more than Mummy or Poppy.’ She giggled. ‘They were tearing their false nails out with jealousy.’ She laughed her hyena laugh, only the iron beak made it sound like an exhaust pipe exploding on an old car.

  ‘He’s got a boyfriend, hasn’t he?’ I hazarded.

  ‘Oh, Calypso,’ she hooted. ‘Even gay men like girls like me.’

  ‘Of course they do,’ I replied as I wandered into the en suite to take a shower and smother my laughter.

  ‘I did mean it before though, Calypso. I am genuinely sorry, about, you know, deleting your messages from Billy.’

  I came back into the room. Honey had just said the word ‘sorry’ again, and more relevantly she increasingly sounded like she actually meant it. I was so shocked I said, ‘Okay, it’s fine,’ even though I didn’t mean it. ‘But in the future I’d rather you didn’t help yourself to my mobile, Honey.’

  ‘I was surprised that there weren’t any messages from Freddie, darling,’ Honey added, looking pointedly at Portia, who was tidying up her area.

  I glanced at Portia as I replied, ‘Oh, I suspect he’s seeing someone else.’ I was trying to get a reaction, to test the waters, but Portia went on folding her clothes and putting them away in her drawer as aloof and regal as ever. So I tried harder. ‘Besides, I’ve gone off him, really. Billy and I have got something more special.’

  This time Portia looked up, but only because she was noticing that one of the evil fluorescent lights was flickering. She pulled over a chair, stood on it and tapped the tube back in place. Then calmly she went back to the task of tidying her area. It was maddening.

  Indie came running into our room and, totally ignoring a bitchy remark from Honey, handed me her phone – a tiny little purple jewel with her name picked out in diamonds around the face.

  ‘Calypso?’ It was Star’s voice. ‘Your phone isn’t working. Georgina’s tried to call you as well and she said to check that your SIM card is okay.’

  ‘My SIM card? Why?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know, she didn’t say, but she’s really insisting you check it.’

  I looked over at Honey, who was studying her nails with a suspicious amount of intensity. ‘Okay, I will, but I’m more worried about you. I hate it here without you. We all do. You are coming back, aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course I’ll be coming back. Daddy just wanted to make a point to Sister. But after this week, it’s half term anyway, which means you won’t see me unless you come to my place for the party.’

  I tried not to whine but I couldn’t help myself. ‘I really want to go to La Fiesta though, Star. I’ve never been.’

  ‘No, you don’t, Calypso. Believe me, they are tragic!’ she assured me. ‘And full of plebs, and we’re too old for that rubbish anyway. Even the Year Eights go now.’

  ‘But the cashmere tops and the skirts – and the shoes. We bought the whole outfit,’ I pleaded desperately.

  ‘They’re just clothes, darling! Please say you’ll come; everyone else is coming. We can wear the outfits at my place. We can wear them all week if you like. Imagine it: we could waft about in them like stunning figurines from the nineteen-thirties. Daddy said we can use the recording studio for the last track. I want you to be part of it, Calypso, you know, on the CD? It was Indie’s idea.’

  ‘But I can’t sing for toast.’

  ‘No, on instrumentals.’

  ‘And what instrument would that be, exactly?’ I asked, a smile beginning to spread across my face.

  ‘I don’t know … triangle?’

  ‘Triangle?’

  ‘Don’t mock the triangle, darling. It’s a very underrated instrument.’

  ‘It does sound fun,’ I agreed, almost, but not quite tempted. Well, not enough to forgo my dream of La Fiesta anyway. I knew I should get over myself, but a dream is a dream, and Bob is always telling me to hang on to my dreams.

  ‘So you’ll come?’

  I was noncommittal. ‘Well, the thought of wafting about in bejewelled cashmere like nineteen-thirties figurines and playing the triangle does have a certain appeal.’

  The truth was I saw myself as a tragic Cinderella who had forever been barred from the ball. Calypso, the proverbial underdog (that’s me) was finally and firmly determined to put a stop to all those who would prevent her from attending the ball, be they Draconian parents or my closest friends.

  And though I know Star loved me, she didn’t really understand. She’d been to loads of balls whereas I’d never been to one. An irrational part of me was even a bit cross with Star for not understanding and being so stubborn when she knew how long and how much I’d wanted to go to this ball. We’d spoken of little else in LA, and Georgina and Star were the ones who’d persuaded my parents to let me go.

  Star stuck the emotional thumbscrews on me. ‘Kevin’s coming to stay and so is Billy. Loads and loads of Eades boys are coming, coach-loads of them, and I’m inviting some of the fit boys from the village as well.’

  ‘Billy will be there?’ I said it out loud so Portia would hear, but she merely walked into the en suite and turned the water on loudly.

  ‘Yes, he’s spending the whole week, and Freddie’s going to the Annual Euro Royal Bash Thingamee, so please come.’

  ‘Maybe I will come,’ I agreed. The truth was though, it was all a pose. Hearing Kevin’s and Billy’s names together only reminded me of Freddie, and that just reminded me that he wouldn’t be at my ball but at the wretched Annual Euro Royal Bash Thingamee with Portia. And as lovely and fit as Billy was … he wasn’t Freds.

  ‘How is Georgina? Is she coming back? There are all sorts of rumours going around.’

  ‘Of course she’s coming. Everyone who matters is coming. Indie is coming straight after the ball.’

  I wished I could go after the ball too, but the train fare from London was about a hundred quid or more, and all I had was thirty-seven pounds left to last me until after half term.

  I changed the subject back to Georgina. ‘No, I mean, is she coming back to school?’

  Star seemed surprised by my question. ‘Why wouldn’t she be coming back?’

  ‘It’s just that everyone’s saying she’s been expelle
d for having that flask of vodka.’

  I heard her giggle echoing down the phone. ‘Oh yes, I can just imagine. Saint Augustine’s waving goodbye to Tobias’s school fees as well as hers. Tobias doesn’t require a bed and doesn’t eat, so it’s a 25,000-pound drop in the coffers as far as the school is concerned. And don’t forget, Calypso, Tobias was caught with the vodka, not Georgina. They can’t pin it on her. Tobias has been suspended for a week for having vodka; Georgina has only been suspended for helping a fellow student conceal vodka.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  Our conversation was interrupted by Miss Bibsmore. ‘Mobiles! After nine? Hand me that mobile immediately, Miss Kelly.’

  I gave Indie a regretful look as I handed over her jewel to Miss Bibsmore. I expected Miss Bibsmore just to plop it in her pocket, but instead she turned it over and over in her hand, marvelling at its beauty.

  ‘Well, perhaps you best hang on to this one, Indie. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for something so lovely.’ She handed it over to Indie and blushed.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Bibsmore,’ Indie smiled.

  ‘But you can ‘and yours in, Miss O’Hare, right now.’

  ‘What about everyone else?’ Honey hooted through her iron beak. No one else had mentioned her iron beak whatsoever – but everyone knew full well that she was only wearing it for attention and to try and make a point about Star injuring her.

  ‘I’m not talking to everyone else so mind your own beeswax.’

  ‘Beeswax? Sorry, no idea what that might be Miss B,’ she said, her attempt at sounding innocent rattling through her beak like a coin dropping down a drainpipe. ‘I don’t speak pleb slang.’

  ‘It’s the gunk inside your head that you use for a brain, Miss O’Hare. I don’t claim to be intelligent and I might well be what your type refers to as common an’ all, but at least I don’t gad about with a bit of tin plonked on my nose.’

  ‘Ugh!’ Honey screamed in outrage. ‘I was told to wear this nose guard after being assaulted by a dangerous criminal who has yet to be brought to justice.’